Hidden deep within a glossy crimson apple, riving and riddling around its core cavity, my deceased father searches for his escape, half insane with desperation, he splits open a solitary glossy brown pip, which to him is nothing more than a peculiar brown object. He has no idea of his location, and his only sparse memory is that of his weeping son. After much pulling and tugging the pip splits open with an audible hiss and crack, releasing sweet melodic music that weeps out from deep within its centre.

   He staggers over to its waters, a lustful look now in his eye as he dips his head into its sparkling chill, he washes his face of the grime and filth that has coated his skin, and his eyes abruptly do behold a strange site lurking within the shadowy waters. The face of a white, putrid, puffy, scarred worm now stare with crimson eyes that pierce through the murky waters, and chillingly and deeply into the core of his entity, and the heavy weight of realisation suddenly pours down upon him like an avalanche." No God please, this can not be, this can not be me, pleeeeese, oh pleeeese, let me be wrong, please,"And a mewling noise escapes his blubbery white gash of a mouth, and tears of blood trickle into the brook, mixing with the crystal clear waters of Hell. And a voice suddenly booms out all around, greeted by loud glorious triumphant trumpet calls,"Hell, hell, helll!!! , You my son, for that is what yee be, are now resting in hell, a hell that is fit for Kings, princes, and Noblemen, and all forms of wicked beasts, and you my worm shall lye before my throne of fire, where you will entertain, and worship me, and my first servant Nacha the spider God, who has been waiting so long, oh so long for your arrival will feed upon you, slowly and perversely, so that you can enjoy, and thrive upon the pain, for this be our welcoming gift to you, you see, piles upon piles of glorious mouth watering pain."

©2003 M.J. Hewitt